Odd Bedfellows
by Nerdy Earthling
Summary: Can two divorced men share the same bed without driving each other crazy? M/M
1. Chapter 1

Title: Odd Bedfellows

Summary: Can two divorced men share the same bed without driving each other crazy?

Disclaimer: I do not own Oscar and Felix, and I did not create them. I'm only a fan.

Acknowledgments: I would like to thank a few people out there for looking over my story: Empress T'Pau, opacre, and especially TheRimmerConnection. Thanks guys!

This story has a Mature rating for mild language and sexual situations.

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Chapter 1

It was the proverbial nail in coffin, that letter from today's mail. Blanche had made her threats, and now there was an ultimatum. The consequences wouldn't be the personal, vengeful wrath of a harassing ex-wife but something far more legal. It all boiled down to paying the alimony now, or it was off to court, signed Blanche's lawyer.

Oscar vaguely wondered how easily he might be able to drop everything and take a long, long vacation to some secluded Caribbean island or Wyoming.

He heard the front door open but didn't bother to turn and check. He knew perfectly well who it was, although he had not been expecting them back until late evening. Rather, he had hoped that this certain irritating roommate of his wouldn't return until the early hours of the morning, giving him a peaceful evening alone. Then again, the letter had ruined any possibility of that.

Felix sat down heavily on the other side of the couch. There was a moment when both roommates were seated together in complete silence. Oscar looked over at him, wondering whether this was going to be a silently-brooding Felix or an angrily-ignoring Felix.

"_Oscar._.."

And there it was, that whining way he spoke his name. It was too much to suppose Felix would have taken note that his lack of conversation meant he was bothered, and didn't want to be bothered.

"Not now, Felix."

Felix turned away, look of utter dejection on his face. While it was probably just Felix being moody, he decided he perhaps might have spoken a little brusquely.

"I'm in hot water, between a rock and a hard place. My editor doesn't like a word I've written, my bookie is in legal trouble, and Blanche's lawyer is threatening jail if I don't get her the money by next Friday. My life is on a losing streak."

"That sounds awful," Felix moaned. All the while, he kept his eyes fixated on some unseen program on the screen of the powered-down television.

"What's botherin' you?"

"Bother. One of the first words that comes to your mind. That's what I am, isn't it? A bother. I _bother_ people."

"Is it those kids?"

"No, no. The school portraits are finished, thank goodness."

Oscar was expecting something more, but Felix only looked ever more depressed.

"Felix, what happened?"

Felix shook his head. "You have your own problems. I don't want to be a burden."

"Alright," he agreed, and started to stand up.

"Miriam broke up with me."

Of course, it had to be the worst news possible.

"You mean officially? Or you two had a fight?"

"It's all over. Miriam called it off."

Oscar adjusted himself to face Felix directly. Those uncomfortable feelings began to surface, those feelings that Oscar felt when another man looked to be on the border of crying.

"I can't believe Miriam would do that to you. Just like that? She said, 'It's all over between us?'"

Felix started to sob. He was quick to reach for his handkerchief from his jacket pocket and bury his face in it.

"Oh, boy," Oscar sighed to himself, then turned back to his roommate. "Look, Felix, I'm sorry. I really am. I thought you two were hitting it off. But ya know how I feel about your crying. I don't know what I can say when you're like this."

Felix shook his head. He looked over at Oscar, no longer openly sobbing, but sunk into a pathetic slumping posture.

"I was a fool. Miriam and I..." Felix fingered the handkerchief. "Our relationship isn't...wasn't what it once was." He leaned back into the sofa, giving a heavy sigh. He rolled his head and eyes to look at Oscar. "Do you know how long it's been since Miriam and I were intimate?" Oscar didn't really feel like answering, so he didn't. "I mean _physically_ intimate," Felix pressured, giving a quick nod and making circular motions with his hands, as if the gestures were actually conducive to understanding.

"Felix, I get it."

"Well, I'll tell you."

"Really..."

Felix shook his head and waved his hand dismissively.

"You're my friend, Oscar. I feel like I can confide in you. Truly, I feel comfortable telling you _anything_."

"Ya don't hafta!"

"Two months."

"Even if I don't want to hear it, you're..." Oscar blinked. "_Months_?!"

"You see, Oscar, the nature of our relationship had changed, and I refused to see it. Oh, I knew but I wanted it to continue as it was. I wanted to keep seeing her as my girlfriend, despite how she distanced herself. She never said anything, but it's what she didn't say. And what I didn't say. I didn't confront her when I had the chance, and now she's gone from my life."

"You're tellin' me you guys went for two whole months without making whoopee?"

Felix gave Oscar his look of disapproval. "It wasn't by choice. There were other things that got in the way, like her mother visiting or a hair appointment. Or she wasn't in the mood. It was the same with the opera. Miriam stopped coming all together...It was just like the months leading up to my divorce."

"Gloria, too? Hate to tell ya this, but maybe you weren't..." Oscar gave a pathetic half-shrug, "satisfying her."

"Miriam had practically a child-like understanding of art until I came along. I knew all the right theaters and museums to take her to. Those nights out were more than satisfactory, I made sure of that."

Oscar remained silent for a moment longer, just to see if Felix would catch on. He didn't.

"I'm talkin' 'bout your nights in. Maybe you weren't satisfying her back when you two were still _physically_ intimate?"

Felix's mouth dropped in surprise. "Boy, you have a dirty mind!"

"You're the one who said it's been a while, so I'm thinking maybe it's the sex?"

"I'll have you know, Oscar Madison, that I'm a very good lover. I'm tender, considerate, patient, attentive, and I have high endurance." Felix brought his shoulders in line with Oscar's, leaning his side against the back of the sofa. He draped his arm over for posturing. "Which is probably more than you could say. I don't know how you manage with all that beer in your belly, and your complete lack of exercise-"

"Hey!" Oscar stood up. "You've moved into my apartment and invaded every part of my life, but I don't need ya in my sex life!"

He headed for the front door. Felix watched as he started up the steps.

"_Oscar_," Felix moaned, as if in pain or great emotional distress.

It was enough to make Oscar stop, against his better judgment.

"Yeah?"

"Where are you going?" Felix asked, his voice croaking.

Oscar turned to his friend, still sprawled on the couch. "Out."

"Don't leave me here," Felix whined. He pouted and threw himself down on the sofa's cushions, extending an outstretched arm towards Oscar. "I don't want to be alone! I'm miserable! I haven't felt this bad since my divorce."

"Since your divorce, I've seen you miserable lotsa times."

"So instead of kicking me out, you're kicking yourself out. This is how you're getting rid of me, isn't it?"

"Ya know, that's not a bad idea. Always felt an eight-room apartment was a little large for a couple of guys."

Felix winced and buried his face in the cushion. His whimpers were muffled.

"It's difficult being around when you're like this, but when I'm having a bad day...I need to get outta here and do somethin' that makes me feel good, or I'll end up like you, trying to suffocate myself!"

Felix looked up. He dragged his body along the length of the sofa and arched his back, resting his chin on its arm.

"Would you really leave me in my fragile condition?"

The first words that came to Oscar's mind did not seem like one of his better suggestions. Then he remembered that fateful night when Felix had come to the apartment in the depths of a borderline-suicidal despair.

"You could come with me."

"I don't feel like going anywhere," Felix whined. "I just want to lie here and die."

"I'm not letting you mope and cry around the apartment for the next two weeks." Oscar walked back towards the sofa. He crouched down, bringing his face eye-level with Felix's. "We're goin' out. We're gonna get drunk and meet girls."

"I don't get drunk."

"You can snort a glass of fancy merlot in the corner."

"But I can't go out."

"Go out to put yourself in a good mood. How 'bout skipping the next few weeks of being miserable and jump right into being happy?"

"I can't just...just do that. I'm hurting."

"I'm goin' out. You can come with me, or you can stay here."

Felix laboriously turned onto his side and curled his legs up. He slowly sat up.

"You're not giving me much of a choice," he said, a pompous air returning to his voice.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Oscar, we're here."

"Hey...hey, wha...what happened to the girls?"

"None of the women you were so desperately trying to flirt with followed you in here."

"Sure they did!"

Felix quickly got out of the taxi. Oscar could almost pass for sober. His tired and disheveled appearance was typical. He could speak without much of a slur, although his voice was a little loud. But it was the whiff of alcohol that made Felix cringe and feel nauseous.

"Felix, what're ya doin'?" Oscar called out from his seat.

Felix dashed around the back of the vehicle to the driver's side. He already had his wallet out.

"Four ninety-four," the cabbie informed him.

Felix noted to himself that the fee had gone up an extra twenty cents, although the traffic was lighter in the early hours of the morning. And to think Oscar could have just walked down the street to get drunk.

"My roommate is just a teensy bit tipsy. I'm certain if he was sober, he would apologize for his behavior," Felix casually informed the driver, although he doubted if he had ever seen Oscar quite so plastered. And the driver looked to have seen enough intoxication in his line of duty to not care.

Oscar was still in his seat. Felix opened the door on his side.

"Oscar, time to get out."

Oscar remained slouched and seemingly glued to the seat. He only moved his neck as he looked from side to side, squinting in confusion.

"We're home. See?" Felix swept an arm towards the familiar front of their apartment complex.

"Wait...I thought...Where're the girls?!"

"Oscar, the cabbie has other drunks to drive home."

"Hey," Oscar pointed an accusing finger. "I'm not drunk, Feliksh!"

He put one hand on the car door, the other on the frame, and heaved himself up. He took his first few steps smoothly, but also very slowly. Felix closed the passenger door, got out his handkerchief to wipe his hands of whatever germs might have been festering on that car door handle, and moved up next to him.

"I hope you realize you disappoint me a great deal. I advised you against over-drinking. You made a fool of yourself this evening, and embarrassed me. You embarrassed me in front of drunks, which should be an impossibility."

Oscar cleared his throat. He wavered as he shifted close to Felix, who turned his face away to avoid the alcohol fumes.

"You're remindin' me of a woman I divorced."

"Blanche is a very smart and clear-headed woman."

Oscar touched Felix's shoulder. He pinched a bit of his jacket's fabric between his fingers.

"Looks like the...like somethin' she'd wear."

"Blanche has good taste."

"_Almost_ looks. She dressed worse!"

Oscar let loose with an explosive laughter. He released the jacket and slid his entire arm across Felix's shoulders. He hooked the crux of his elbow around the back of Felix's neck, and leaned heavily.

"Don't feel like walkin'," Oscar mumbled.

Felix wrapped an arm around Oscar's waist.

"You'd better hope my bursitis doesn't act up."

They entered the building and Felix automatically moved towards the elevators. Oscar dragged his feet most of the way, but still seemed capable of walking, only using his roommate for leverage. Felix noticed the time on the wall clock, and he cross-checked with his own watch. As usual, the clock was a few minutes fast, but the fact remained—the time was approaching 3am.

Felix blinked hard and shook his head. No wonder he was feeling sleepy. Worse yet, he had to go to the studio the next day—technically, later today.

"Hey...your girls! Call 'em and-and invite 'em!" Oscar grinned.

"What are you talking about? What girls?"

"Ya know, your...your models."

"Those models are professional workers. They do not accept private house calls."

"Come on..."

Oscar firmly planted himself in front of the elevator doors. Felix reached over to push the button but was too far away. He angled his body and stretched his arm out to get as much length as possible.

"They're still women! Ask nicely? A free session?"

Felix tugged at Oscar's waist.

"Oscar, we won't be going anywhere until the button gets pushed."

Oscar took a lumbering step forward, enough for Felix to barely brush a finger against the up arrow. One of the elevator doors opened instantly.

"How 'bout it?"

"About what?"

"Felix Unger and Oscar Madison's private photography session."

Felix was grateful when they were both in the elevator and the doors had closed. Although there was no one hanging around the apartment complex, Felix felt less embarrassed being in a small, enclosed space. Now, only his slight case of claustrophobia was kicking in.

"Well...?" Oscar's voice trailed on, genuinely wanting an answer. He was smiling at Felix, and nodding in expectation of an affirmative answer.

"Absolutely not. My relationship with my models is purely professional."

"You're surrounded by gorgeous girls, and...and nothin'?"

"They're beautiful women, but we work together to get a job done."

"Nothin' ever?"

"Well..." Felix shrugged against Oscar's arm. "There were a few, I would call, romantic encounters. But nothing ever _happened_, not the way you're thinking."

"Felix..." For the first time since Oscar had taken the first sips of alcohol, he sounded serious.

"What, what is it?"

"I need a woman."

"It's a little late for that. The only women out at this time are drunks or..." Felix hesitated before lowering his voice, "women of ill-repute."

"I don't care. I just want somethin' soft so I can..." Oscar released Felix. He held his arms out and turned his relaxed palms to face each other at hip-level. He moved his hands up along an invisible hourglass-shaped body.

"Don't grope in the elevator," Felix admonished.

Oscar rolled his eyes. The elevator doors opened on their floor. Felix exited and started to walk towards their living quarters. Oscar didn't follow.

"Do you want to lean on me?" Felix asked.

"Blanche," he said dumbly.

Felix grabbed his arm. He lengthened his stride. They were very close to their apartment as it was, but it felt like they couldn't arrive fast enough with Oscar lumbering along behind him.

"It wasn't great, but I need it."

"Marriage. It truly is a necessity of civilization."

"I wasn't talkin' 'bout marriage."

Felix used his key at the door and let them inside. He turned on the lights while Oscar was already plodding down the stairs, making a beeline for the couch, which he collapsed upon. Felix numbly removed his coat and hung it in the closet, the feeling of sleepiness unshaken.

Oscar winced and mumbled something unintelligible.

"What was that?"

"I think I'm in trouble."

Felix sat down next to his drunken roommate. "You drank too much."

"I haven't had a girl for a looong time."

"Maybe if you weren't such a boor, you'd have a date."

Oscar's features sharpened, but it was momentary. The edges of his mouth formed a sort of lop-sided smile. "I've got you."

"Well," Felix couldn't hold back a small smile in return, "what are friends for?"

Oscar shifted himself on the couch, so he was right up next to him. He laid his arm on the back of the couch and scooted in so close that Felix's arm was against his side. He splayed a leg out to rest against Felix's. Oscar tipped his head to rest against the back of the sofa and looked up at him with heavy lids. "I remember...I spent a night just like this with Blanche."

"You got drunk and failed to pick up women?"

"We were sitting...on a...a couch."

Felix nodded. He waited for Oscar to continue.

"Uh-huh," he said when Oscar said nothing else. "Well, Gloria and I...used to sit on couches. After we had gone out, we would sit together and we would...we would talk. I used to like to read poetry or Shakespeare to her. Sometimes she would light a fire in the fireplace, although the smoke always irritated my sinuses. But after living with you, I'm certain I could tolerate a little smoke."

"Blanche and I used to share a cigarette."

"Gloria did for a bit. Smoke. But I convinced her to quit."

"Didn't Miriam smoke?"

"No, absolutely not."

"Ya don't find it sexy?"

"You know smoking makes me feel ill."

"You've tried it?"

Felix blinked hard against his tired eyes. "What?"

"Smokin' makes ya ill? Or bein' 'round smoke?"

"Being around people who are smoking makes me ill."

"So, ya _never_ tried it?"

"Well...I actually...I have tried it. Everyone else was doing it, and I thought 'why not?' But it was a stupid thing to do. A very unhealthy, messy, useless and expensive hobby."

Oscar smiled. It was that content, sweet smile Felix rarely saw. A very distinctive smile. Oscar brought a hand to the side of Felix's head and ran it drunkenly through his hair. "Blanche and I, we shared secrets on the couch, but drinking was usually involved."

"Uh...hm," Felix stated, his mind on the hand in his hair.

"You have nice...shampoo...hair. I mean the shampoo you use on your hair. Ya wash with shampoo?"

Felix was frozen for a long moment. He scrutinized Oscar's face. That smile, those mannerisms, he recognized them whenever Oscar was trying to impress a pretty woman. Except all the nuances were inundated with alcohol. The thumb of his hand became occupied with his ear.

"Your ears." Oscar spoke as if making a statement.

"I think I should boil some hot water—"

As Felix attempted to get up, Oscar laid the hand firmly on his shoulder.

"I worry 'bout ya."

Those four words struck a beautiful chord. More than anything else spoken that night, Felix believed those words were the truth, stored away somewhere deep in Oscar's mind and slipped free when inhibition was no longer guarding every thought.

"Oh, Oscar—"

Oscar placed the entire palm of his hand over Felix's mouth, instantly silencing him. Felix didn't attempt to speak, even when Oscar removed the hand.

"A guy like you has problems. Problems, God knows." Oscar looked up for a brief moment, as if directly addressing the Divinity. "But ya need to have fun. Lotsa fun."

"I do have fun."

Oscar grinned.

"I mean _fun_. Ya know...fun stuff. Everyone needs to have a bit of the fun stuff."

"Of course, I have fun. I can be a fun guy."

"I'm talkin' 'bout not cookin' or...or cleanin' or collectin' stamps."

"But I think those things are fun."

"I'm talkin' 'bout crazy-fun. Fun for the body."

"I exercise daily."

"I know, I know..." Oscar gave Felix's bicep a light pinch. "Ya like clean, but I'm talkin' 'bout the dirty fun stuff: Grope a model in the dark room. Watch a triple-X porno on 42nd Street. Pay the cabbie the extra ten for a tumble in the back seat—"

"The _cabbie_?! Oscar, what taxis have you been taking—"

"I'm sayin' do whatcha want, somethin' good and dirty, before you're dead. Seize the moment!"

Felix wrung his fingers together.

"Oscar..." He smiled sheepishly, and Oscar smiled back. "I do _carpe diem_...but with reasonable caution. I know I'm a shy, quiet guy but I'm alright with that. I'm not one to engage in..._casual_ affairs. Besides, I think I like being the one who's pursued rather than the pursuant."

"Yeah?" Oscar somehow succeeded in shifting in even closer. His eyes scanned Felix's body. "Tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"What dirty things ya like."

"Oscar, you mean...about _my_ _preferences_..." Felix's voice trailed, unable to answer.

"Yep."

"Oscar?"

"Say my name one more time, and I'm yours!"

Felix's mouth slacked but no words came. Nothing. Felix wondered if he had actually drifted off to sleep, and was taking part in a manifested, deep-seated dream.

"That's cute," Oscar tapped Felix on the cheek. "Now if this was a date with Blanche, I'd move in for the kill."

Felix blinked. Of course, this all related to Blanche. Or, what was probably more likely, the yearnings for female companionship. He took in a breath and let out all the tension in a firm exhale.

"It's getting late. How about I get you into bed?"

"And I was startin' to think I wasn't gonna get lucky."

Felix frowned in momentary confusion, but then laughed giddily. He slapped Oscar on the shoulder before rising from the sofa. Before he was even fully on his feet, he felt a slap on his hip. He spun around. Oscar watched, making no move to get up. Felix sighed, ignoring the drunken playfulness, and extended an arm.

"Need a hand?"

Oscar grinned widely, and looked to be on the verge of laughing out loud.

"Can't think of a better way to end the night!"

Oscar leaned back on the couch and guffawed. His whole body shook with a loud, bawdy laughter. Felix covered his mouth. He wanted to give his look of disapproval, but he found himself biting back a grin.

When Oscar recovered, Felix was still standing there. Once again, he extended the arm.

"I think it's late for us both," he said, simply.

Oscar took his hand and relied heavily on it to move. Felix brought his other hand into use and had to take a wide stance to bring him off the couch. Oscar swayed when he was on his feet, and threw an arm around Felix's shoulders.

"I suppose I'll—oh!"

Felix, caught off-guard, gave a single gasp as Oscar slipped his hand down his spine, stopping at the small of his back. Oscar bumped his body off his and held a hand outward with the palm facing upward in an inviting gesture.

"Sweep me off my feet," Oscar's voice lilted.

Their faces were at a kissable distance. Remaining resolute, Felix brought his eyes down and spoke to Oscar's tie.

"It's late, and I'm very tired and you're very drunk."

Oscar snatched his hand, and for a moment, Felix was struck by how he refrained from instantly taking off. Instead, he maintained the pose of a charming gentleman about to initiate a ballroom dance. Then he tried to shuffle. Felix tripped before standing firm.

"Just a little, teeny waltz to my room," Oscar cooed.

Felix sighed. His free hand inched towards his waist, but Oscar was already taking the lead. He rested it on Oscar's shoulder instead.

Oscar swayed from side to side, side-stepping slowly toward the hallway. Felix looked down at his feet, not wanting Oscar to haphazardly tread on him. When Felix looked back up, Oscar's eyes were fixated on him. As the hand on his back inched further down, Felix realized he now had firsthand experience of copping a feel, although he never would've guessed he'd be on the receiving end.

"That's not appropriate on a first dance," Felix said in a patronizing, albeit teasing, tone.

Oscar began to hum a made-up tune, or a tune made unrecognizable by his grating voice and being overall tone deaf. Felix's ears were assaulted until they arrived at the door, where he finished with a crescendo. Oscar released Felix, but did not make the attempt to go in. He stood close, staring at him with the same casual, lazily smiling expression.

"Wanna a nightcap?" he asked.

"Old stale beer isn't what I have in mind for a nightcap," Felix replied, genuinely not realizing how flirtatious his comment might come across to an already flirting drunk.

Oscar planted both hands firmly on Felix's shoulders, and reeled the other man towards him. Felix's weight shifted to the toes of his feet as his chest bumped against Oscar's.

"Same here."

Oscar gave him a firm kiss on the lips. Felix arched backwards, putting a bit of distance between his lips and Oscar's. Oscar moved in again and this one was more passionate than the first. The shock prevented Felix from doing much of anything. That and the pungent taste of alcohol. And the fact it was Oscar.

Suddenly, Oscar broke away, his hands dropping to his sides. He tilted back against the wall adjacent to his bedroom door. His eyes remained fixed on Felix.

"Oscar—"

With little else to say, Felix spoke his name. It came out throaty and airy, and a bit pleading. Oscar grabbed Felix somewhat forcefully by his forearms, and once again pulled him in close. He hushed him, then planted another kiss, a chaste one on the lips, then moved to his neck. Felix allowed himself an indulgence—closing his eyes in a brief appreciation of the delicious sensation of lips-to-flesh. He opened his eyes as Oscar pulled down a bit of his shirt collar.

"I can't. You're too vulnerable." Felix spoke in a low voice.

Oscar moved his lips to his ear. "You're the one who's flirtin'. I'm drunk, makin' this the perfect opportunity."

"Opportunity?"

"To take advantage...of—"

"Oscar—"

"Again with the _Oscar_."

Oscar spoke louder than he had intended, especially being so close to his ear. Felix cringed and was further lambasted when his body was spun around and his back pinned to the wall. Oscar was just in front, their bodies touching. He rested his crown against the wall and tilted his face into Felix's neck.

"I think..." Felix shivered against a warm, deep exhale. "I think that you..." He bit back his words as Oscar nestled his way past the shirt collar toward that conjunction between neck and shoulder. "I think you..." His body suddenly turned hot when a bit of his skin was nipped. "Oscar, you...you have to...go to bed and—ah! Ahh!"

Oscar had undone one button of Felix's shirt unnoticed, and his hand had slipped inside gliding across his belly. Then, almost immediately he withdrew it, along with the rest of himself entirely.

"You need a shave." Oscar spoke bluntly, and swung the door to his bedroom wide open. "Night, Felix."

After the door was shut, Felix strained his ears to hear Oscar's footsteps. When there was nothing further for the next several minutes, he re-oriented himself. Finding himself on his toes, Felix brought himself down on his heels and still further down until he slid all the way to the floor. He took in a few more deep breaths to try to calm himself, but only ended up hyperventilating. There was an aftertaste of alcohol which clung to the back of his throat and stung his sinuses.

His best friend had kissed him. He had been kissed by his best friend.

Still weak in the limbs, Felix scrambled up and staggered over to the mini-bar. He poured himself a shot of brandy, and although he failed to down it in a single gulp, he emptied the glass quickly. His skin still tingled with Oscar's touches, which set his mind buzzing, although that could also have been the alcohol on top of the alcohol already in his system.

Realizing his precarious position, Felix abandoned the mini-bar and went to his bedroom. He reclined on his bed, his eyes fixated on the ceiling.

In a way, Oscar had always been his. His to fuss over, to care for, to chastise, to make certain he left for work on time, to clean his place, to cook him delicious meals, to offer himself in any way he could. He had never thought of their relationship turning physical. Never serious at the very least. Never any vivid and guilty fantasies—but perhaps only vague notions. Perhaps only as a thought that would arise at the end of the day, when he was lying in bed trying to sleep, and whisper to him. He had felt foolish for speculating that Oscar might have had a preference for men, back before he had moved in with him. It was only because he had remained divorced for so long and had no children. Once he had Oscar's womanizing habits, Felix didn't give it another thought. But now?

_In vino veritas?_


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Oscar spent the morning in bed, listening to the dulled clattering of utensils. He approached the kitchen. Felix turned from the stove, coated in sweat and wearing only his pajama bottoms.

"Finally, you got up. I've been _slaving_ all morning, just for you!"

He winked.

Oscar heard the clattering of metal, and he was jolted back to his bedroom—for which he thanked God. Instinct told him to lie in bed all morning, to never leave his room, but he knew Felix would come in to check up on him. He had to get out. He could sneak out through the back entrance and leave a little note—the sort of thing Felix would appreciate—saying that he had to get to work early. That he'd had to leave so early and so swiftly, he had no choice but to avoid him. And he could do that every morning for the rest of his life.

Against all sense, he got up and walked over to the kitchen. Felix wasn't there. He looked across the counter and spotted him. The sound which he had figured to be kitchen implements being clanged together was actually Felix collapsing unconscious on Murray's drum set. Oscar rushed over.

"Felix! Felix, buddy, speak to me!"

He shook Felix by the shoulder. The other man looked up wearily.

"Oscar, you know I love Gloria, so what about my brother in Buffalo? He's single and has the hots for men."

Oscar's eyes snapped open and he forced himself to sit up against the hangover. He couldn't sneak out. In his mind, he tried to consider how to begin the awkward morning after. He needed to confront Felix before he did anything else, and before falling back asleep to disturbing dreams.

His hangover was not as intense as he had anticipated, so he found himself able to stand up with only mild difficulty. The lights and sounds reverberated in his head, but he could make himself eat whatever was cooking. He could smell fish, which was a pleasant surprise, although it was one he couldn't fully appreciate with no appetite.

Not bothering to change, as he was already fully dressed from yesterday, he shuffled out of the room. He briefly stopped by the bathroom to take an aspirin for the throbbing pain in his head. As he made his way down the hallway, he could now fully hear Felix fussing in the kitchen. His anxiety heightened.

He turned to the kitchen counter, already set with two covered plates. Felix (not shirtless, but wearing his typical bathrobe-over-pajamas) was making scrambled eggs over the stove top, and didn't notice his entrance. Oscar watched him, reconsidering all over again, when he turned around. Felix was taken aback, as if he had been surprised.

"Morning." Felix spoke slowly, with an emphasis on the one word.

"Morning, Felix," Oscar said, trying to sound casual against the sensation of feeling flushed. He had to look away, making it appear as natural as he could by rubbing the back of his neck. "What's for breakfast?"

"Eggs florentine, made with my specialty hollandaise sauce, with a slice of baked, lightly seasoned salmon."

Oscar nodded. It sounded like quite a breakfast, one which Felix shouldn't be cooking. He forced himself to look back at Felix, but could see no signs of anger or disgust or disapproval. No upcoming chastisement. There was a silence which extended to a point that was far too long for a casual, natural silence. With nothing to say, Oscar made the first move and stepped into the kitchen. He was acutely aware of nearing Felix, then moving past him to the percolator. He was also very aware when Felix made a turning motion to return to the stove. He used a whisk in the bowl seated on top of a pan.

"That's my hangover remedy."

"What?" Oscar asked, taking special attention to pouring the coffee into his cup.

"In the glass next to you."

Oscar looked about, and noticed just next to him on the counter a glass filled with a red liquid. He took it, tilting the glass slightly. It was very viscous, and it smelled like an overly-concentrated and tomato-y mixed fruit punch.

"I figured you might be needing it after last night."

"Yeah," Oscar said, clearing his throat in preparation to bringing this to a conclusion. "About last

night—"

"Yes?"

Felix's interruption was quick and he stopped stirring the sauce, giving Oscar his full attention.

"I don't remember anything I did."

Oscar took a sip of the coffee to clear his hangover fog. He turned away, bringing his coffee cup with him—he didn't bother with the suspicious concoction called "remedy". Felix followed after him.

"Nothing at all?"

Oscar could almost make out disappointment in Felix's voice. He slowed, nearly to a stop, but continued on toward the table.

"Nope, it's all a blur." The moment he was seated, he looked up at his roommate. He stared hard at Felix, the deciding factor as to how far the subject matter would be forced to go. "I'm guessing I didn't do anything stupid."

"Nothing stupid."

Taking that statement at face value, Oscar ignored the desire to ask a follow up question and leaned back into his chair, relieved.

"The sauce!" Felix rushed over to the stove top. "Don't worry, the hollandaise isn't ruined. Breakfast will be ready shortly."

For once, Felix fussing over food was a reassuring sign of normalcy. Oscar grinned. This morning could be like any other morning.

"I wasn't worried."

As he enjoyed his coffee, Felix divided the sauce between the two plates, which were already set with muffins, poached eggs, and the salmon. Felix carried both plates over to the table and seated himself. Oscar reached for the silverware, and scanned the table.

"Looking for something?" Felix asked.

"Ketchup."

"You don't eat eggs florentine with ketchup. That's why I made the hollandaise."

Oscar shrugged and poked the food with his fork.

"There's something green in mine."

"Spinach. Eggs florentine always has spinach."

"If there's spinach, give me the ketchup so I can drown out the flavor."

Felix did a motion with his arm that made it appear he was going to throw his fork down, but the gesture slowed, and the fork was set neatly on the table.

"I slaved over breakfast this morning—"

"Please, don't say that word."

"What word?"

"Slaved."

"Is that so? Well, let me tell you that 'slaved' is an apt descriptor. Of all the things I've done for you, and this is the thanks I get. You were far more of a gentleman when you were drunk."

Oscar's body locked itself into a paralysis. Only his eyes moved to stare at his roommate. He spoke slowly, as if each word would make Felix retract his statement. "What...do you mean?"

"I mean you were..." Felix cocked his head from side to side as he considered the next word to use, "nicer to me."

"_Nicer_?"

"You appreciated me a lot more." As Felix spoke, a semblance of a smile formed on his lips.

Oscar turned the poking end of his fork to him. He leaned on the table towards his roommate.

"Listen to me, Felix, because I'm only gonna say this once more. I was very drunk last night. I don't remember a thing. You don't hold a guy responsible for anything he might've said or done when he was really drunk. And, I mean it when I say I must've been _really_ drunk."

"I know that. I'm only saying you were nicer. What's wrong?"

Oscar blinked. He had been staring intently at Felix, as if that would make him forget the whole thing. He sat back in his chair, the effects of a hangover still present.

"Forget it, Felix. I'm not enjoying the morning."

"And my eggs florentine isn't making it any better, is that it? I made it because I figured you would be having a bad morning and I only wanted to brighten it. And my hangover remedy! You left that in the kitchen, and I had made that specifically for you."

Felix took a peevish bite out of his meal. Oscar decided something else needed to be said, just to snuff out all lingering doubt.

"There actually is somethin'. I didn't bring this up yesterday since you were so upset, but you may not be seeing much of me this evening."

"And why is that?"

"I met a girl and I won't be around until tonight. Late tonight. Or if I'm really lucky tomorrow morning."

Felix frowned. "A girl? You mean..." As Felix hesitated, Oscar was once again in hot anticipation. "You're seeing someone?"

"Um, yeah. We're seein' and talkin', but maybe we'll take seein' and talkin' a little further tonight."

"What's wrong with her?"

"What'd ya mean 'what's wrong with her?'"

"You've never mentioned her before, and you didn't want to see her when you were down last night. I thought the fact you wanted to pick up girls meant there wasn't anyone."

"Yeah, so...we barely know each other. But I'm hopin' we get to know each other a little better tonight, _comprende_?"

In a switch, Felix went from suspicion to a relaxed resignation. He smiled at him in that sort of juvenile way. "You'll be bringing her back here?"

"No...No, uh, we'll go to her apartment. She has an amazing place. Haven't seen it, but she says she has one of those...one of those nice apartments. In any case, Felix, don't wait up."

"So you really think you're going to get lucky, eh?" Oscar nodded, trying his best to look enthusiastic, but he was not enjoying the lie as much as he thought he would. "What's she like?"

Oscar thought fast. "Really tall. Green eyes. Has an amazing figure."

"Blonde?"

"A redhead."

Felix mouthed out "wow" and made slow, deliberate nods in approval. Oscar wished he hadn't made her sound quite so attractive.

"Good for you. And it's been a while for you..." Felix hesitated. "Since you've brought a girl back here. After all those busy nights, you deserve it." Felix winked and slapped him on the shoulder. "You go get her, wildcat."

Oscar offered up a weak smile. The knowledge that there was no fiery redhead in the wings, much less anyone else, made him feel unusually depressed.

"Well, Felix," he said with a finality, ending the miserable conversation, "I'd better get dressed, shower, the works."

Oscar took the cup to his lips and began to drain the rest of the coffee.

"I was about to say, if you weren't going to change your clothes and freshen up, I would rip them off and wash you myself."

Oscar kept his lips sealed for a long moment. He forced himself to swallow.

"Later, Felix," he said, and left the table.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"Felix, I think I'm in trouble. A couple of guys are comin' 'round to break my legs."

"Haven't I told you that you shouldn't hang around with the underworld types!?"

"I'm sorry, Felix, but it's too late. They're gonna make an example out of me."

"You need to get out of here!"

"They're already on their way. Sorry, buddy, but you're also in trouble. They'll hurt you to get through to me."

"Oscar this is...this is terrible! I don't want my legs broken!"

"Hey, I just got an idea! We'll hide _in the closet_!" Oscar opened the door to the coat closet. He smiled widely at Felix. "No one will find us here in the closet." He winked knowingly.

"Well..." Felix grinned, also knowingly. "Alright."

Their bodies moved in a sort of dance similar to last night's, and Felix woke up. Shaken and sensitive, his mind was still focused on that dance, and a few other dirtier movements that didn't happen. To divert his focus, he considered the room. There was an early evening light leftover from the day. It was early enough to prepare dinner for himself, and after that, to idle the time away cleaning until Oscar returned. That was, he figured Oscar would return tonight at some point. He almost always did. If he continued to lie on the couch, he'd catch a glimpse of this mysterious, highly attractive date of his. Maybe later, when Oscar would have kicked him out of the living room, he would listen through his bedroom's thin walls to their muffled noises of making love heavily and loudly on the very same couch...

Felix couldn't let it stand any longer. That gnawing male need had been tugging on him for quite some time, and denial only made him inordinately desperate. He undid his belt, then his pants. He unzipped his fly, slowly, and his problem presented itself. He bit his lower lip.

Felix looked around his nicely enclosed living space. His options were crude, but he was in a convenient position to deal with it however he wanted, alone in the privacy of a cozy apartment he had all to himself.

* * *

Oscar really wished he hadn't described his date in such highly attractive terms. She was completely deranged, that was what he was going to tell Felix when he stepped through the door. He would leave off that bit about going to a cheap diner after work and trying to pick up the waitress. She wasn't particularly young or attractive, so he felt he wasn't overstepping his boundaries, but when she turned him down with that dreadful statement—"you're a little old for me"— he asked for the check and took the next available taxi. And there was that grumpy period on the drive back to the apartment, where he considered just how old he was getting, how middle-aged, how his quality of life would only decline from this point on as every second of his life was a step away from youth towards senility. And eventually death, he knew, but he didn't like to think that far.

Oscar returned to the building in good time. He opened the apartment door into darkness. He hesitated.

"Felix?"

He poked his head in, and heard the humming white noises of the heater and humidifier in conjunction. He stepped fully in and closed the door gently behind him. With just enough moonlight and artificial light from the neighboring building to navigate, he softly made his way down the steps and to the center of the living room. There, he noticed an unusual glow spread across a small section of the floor down the hallway.

Oscar looked towards the kitchen, and his eyes rested on the dining table. He approached for a closer look and noted the table was set for two. Two candles had been placed on candlesticks and set opposite one another in a classic romantic arrangement. They looked to have been lit but were now extinguished.

He went back across the living room, took up the jacket he had left on the railing, and opened up the coat closet. He moved each jacket over, but everything in there was his or Felix's. At least, as far as he could tell, even in the dim light, there was no ladies' apparel. He abandoned any notions of hanging his jacket and dropped it to the floor. He closed the closet and looked back down toward the dim light in the hallway, wondering who had turned him down. The glow, though, made him consider far more seriously what sort of new Felix Unger madness he had stumbled upon.

He moved slowly towards the flickering glow. It obviously came from Felix's bedroom, along with the dim sound of music playing over a radio, just barely audible over the humidifier and heater. The sounds from the radio became clearer. It played a slow song with a crooning male vocalist, back from a nostalgic era. He spotted the note taped on the door but couldn't read it clearly in the darkened hallway, and didn't really bother trying.

The door was open just a sliver. He reasoned whatever Felix did alone in his room was his business, but curiosity over the date and something else, a sort of perverse curiosity he could not fully acknowledge, made him widen it.

He took a single step in, nearly inquiring with "Felix?", but his mouth failed to form words. The lighting wasn't the best, and Felix was mostly under the bedsheets, but those moments it took to open the door weren't enough for Felix to pretend anything else. The lighting was terrible enough so Oscar could not see Felix's expression when he jolted his head and shoulders from the bed and looked over.

"Oscar?"

Oscar took that one step back across the threshold and pulled the door completely shut. He stood there, facing the door, cringing at his own shameful stupidity. He fitfully wiped his hands on his pants, suddenly overcome with a feeling of contamination. Looking upward, he tried to muster a reprimanding insult to hurl at himself.

Speechless, he quickly turned away and headed toward his bedroom. Just as he was about to enter, he considered giving an apology to his overly-sensitive roommate, whose feelings of utter embarrassment he could only imagine.

A light fell upon his door, outlining his shadow. He turned to see Felix standing at his own door. A light had been turned on in his room and the music was gone. Felix was mostly obscured by the door, only his upper body visible as he looked around the door's edge, which he held with both hands.

"Look, Felix..." Oscar began, wanting to apologize in sincerity, but finding himself unable to form words. He approached Felix, ready to throw himself down at his mercy.

It suddenly became so much more difficult when he finally saw the other man under full light. His whole appearance was disheveled, with a flushed face, and sweaty. He was wearing his pajamas (or, at least, his pajama top was visible), but the buttons were undone, revealing a bare chest. The glaze of sweat was particularly visible around the base of his neck and plastered his hair to his skin, and not just the hair on his head.

"What happened to your date?" Felix asked, sounding winded. His chest rose and fell with a deep and desperate breath.

He blinked, and refocused his eyes away from the details of Felix that he didn't want to see—his chest, his damp hair, his reddened skin—to just looking at him as squarely as he could in the eye.

"You can tell me," Felix pressed.

"It didn't," Oscar replied mechanically.

Oscar shifted his eyes away, as it was impossible to simply look at a still-aroused Felix and not think about sex. The note on the door was now clearly visible, with the first line reading: "Oscar," and the second line: "Knock politely to speak to me." At the very bottom were the infamous F.U. initials. If there ever was an appropriate case for their use, this was it.

"Oscar, what?"

"It just...didn't happen, ya know?" Oscar's voice picked up as he backed up, slowly. He wanted to dash to his bedroom, but he kept his eyes on his half-dressed roommate. "What happened to yours?"

"My what?"

"Your..." Oscar frowned. "You expectin' somebody?"

Felix blinked. "I don't know what you mean. Why..." He took in another deep, but controlled breath. The attempt to feign normal breathing made Oscar annoyed, wishing his roommate would just pant. "Why would I be in my pajamas if I were expecting company?"

"Yeah...yeah, I..."

"Oscar, I realize you're upset over having another one reject you. But look at it this way: There's more to life than sex."

And in just those words, the feelings of awkwardness were engulfed by utter shame and embarrassment. There were more than a few retorts Oscar could make, but he didn't dare speak them, although it was difficult enough not to think of them. Even Felix shifted.

"Was there something else?"

Oscar considered putting a question, if not several, to him. There was actually a noticeable pause, enough for Felix give him that encouraging expression, to have Oscar make his move. "No, buddy, I'm good."

"Alright...see you tomorrow morning, Osc."

"Right. See you...Feel."

Felix was smiling contentedly when he closed the door. Oscar immediately darted to his own room. A couple of steps in and he nearly tripped on a lump. And he was usually so good at navigating around his lumps. He lay down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling, not feeling sleepy.

_Candles_.

That's what the glow was coming from—tiny candles which he only noticed when Felix fully opened the door. It was consistent with the lighting he saw, but it didn't make much sense. It would seem Felix had a date who stood him up. And despite being smoke-sensitive and having fears of the apartment going down ablaze, he kept the candles going.

No, Oscar didn't really think that was true. He would've heard near non-stop about a date, and Felix would've been despondent about being stood up. He also would've caved in and told him if he had been stood up. There was also the music. Could it really be possible that Felix created a romantic atmosphere solely for himself? And why would someone who would put up a fuss over just about anything act so casual, not just tonight but also last night when he was groped, if not physically molested? Not simply casual, but calmly satisfied?

Oscar turned sharply in his bed and tried to put the idea out of his mind. It didn't do to speculate on a friend that way. Besides, it was Felix the Nut, the same man who sent his wife a suicide telegram and wore his seat belt at the drive-in theater.

Oscar lifted his head for a moment to grab his pillow, which he firmly slammed against the side of his head. His feelings of desperation turned his thoughts to women—girlfriends, women working at the places he frequented, and simply those attractive girls he had spotted but never actually engaged or seen again—the so many kinds that made an impression on him. Thinking of them gave him the pleasantly warm feeling, although he didn't wish to indulge, not after seeing Felix.

He somehow fell asleep despite his restless thoughts.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Oscar slowly awoke to clean walls and smooth sheets. It was a wonderful feeling to slowly wake up to, until his brain became more functional and told him it could not possibly be his room. Oscar scanned about him, as if looking for any semblance to his room would set him back in that place. He sat up in Felix's bed.

He looked down at himself to see the visual evidence that he was fully clothed. It made him shudder, the thought that he had to check to make certain he still was still wearing the same underclothes he had on when he went to sleep. He frantically got out of bed and rushed into his own room. He dressed quickly before peering down the hallway.

"Felix?" he called out, but heard no answer.

There wasn't a sound in the apartment, only the background noises of an early, a really early, New York morning. Everything was still dark aside from the usual array of artificial lights from adjacent buildings and traffic. Oscar went back and forth, from room to room, but there was no sign of Felix. Except for a note on the kitchen counter, informing him his roommate had gone out, also signed F.U. Once again, those initials were seemingly appropriate for the occasion.

Oscar quickly finished getting ready for his day, which only really consisted of putting on whatever clothes were left lying around that didn't smell. He had bologna with a wad of mustard for breakfast, and drank directly from the sink faucet before departing for work. Once he was out the door, he tried not to think about what his day would look like when he returned.

* * *

Oscar might have considered it lucky that the electricity had gone out for the entire building, allowing him to leave the office early; he might have, if it hadn't been for those morning hours. There was the distinct possibility that the incident last night had made Felix leave. Perhaps the feel-good hormones had made him initially amenable, and was only now, the morning after, feeling embarrassed, and possibly ashamed. But there was the further question of why he had woken up in his roommate's bed. It would certainly also be on his mind. It was only a matter of which one of them would be the first to openly address it.

When Oscar opened the door, Felix was in the kitchen. There were a line of grocery bags on the counter, and Felix had his back to them. He was holding one bag with his arm as he set what looked like boxes of cereal in the cupboard. If anything, Oscar would be able to focus his interest on the food, but Felix's presence had stolen his appetite. He set his jacket in the closet, just the way Felix would want, and walked down the steps. Felix casually turned around to get another bag, and he noticed Oscar. He straightened.

"Oscar!" he gasped.

It was enough to make Oscar stop. "Felix," he said simply.

"Why aren't you at work!?"

"The electricity was out. I guess a generator was busted, so my editor let some of us go."

Felix moved to reach for another bag. "That was nice of him."

"For the ones he let go." As Felix turned to put the next set of groceries away, Oscar approached the counter. He leaned over to peer into each bag. "He's keeping a small staff around, which I bet is against some labor law, but—"

He didn't finish his sentence. Flat against the bottom of one of the bags were the words "An Introduction to Psychoanalysis" followed by "Sigmund Freud." They were printed in a large font on a book jacket. A bad feeling came over Oscar as he considered Felix and Freud in the same context.

He picked it up, realizing the cover was attached to an entire book, with bound pages and all. Oscar looked back into the bag and noticed another book below that one, titled "The Interpretation of Dreams" and also authored by the familiar Sigmund Freud. Oscar picked it up, and noticed a third book, which at least wasn't written by Freud. He didn't fully understand what "Sexual Inversion" meant, only that it sounded dirty. He picked up that one and set the other two back in the bag. He opened the book to a random point, and his eyes immediately spotted the word "lesbian."

Felix was busy putting away and arranging groceries in the refrigerator until he happened to look over at Oscar.

"I notice you found the books," he said, tentatively.

"You went to the library?" Oscar asked, keeping his eyes on what he hoped had the potential to turn into a steamy chapter about girl-on-girl love.

"I stopped by earlier this morning, before going to the store."

"I never thought I'd find dirty literature outside my bedroom."

"Those are not smut, but great works of psychology!"

Felix approached Oscar. He set the books by Freud back in the bag and held out his hand. When Oscar gave no response, he lashed an arm out, but Oscar recoiled.

"Hey, I think this 'great work of psychology' is my kind of reading."

"That's the Havelock Ellis one," Felix stated.

Oscar turned the book over, starting down at the cover. "I don't know how I feel about Freud, but I think I like this guy."

"You _do_?" Felix questioned. He stared quizzically at Oscar. "Does the content in that book interest you?"

"Sure, what normal, healthy man wouldn't be interested? But what makes a straight-lace like you suddenly so interested?"

"Murray."

It was not the sort of answer Oscar was expecting, although Felix spoke it without hesitation.

"Murray?"

"Yes, Murray has been having problems, but he doesn't want to go through all that psychiatric mumbo jumbo, so I told him I would be his therapist. After all, I've been through dozens myself. So, I took up some supplemental reading on the side."

"Shouldn't our friend, Murray the Cop, see a real shrink?"

"Oh, no, it's nothing really serious. You know..." Felix lowered his voice to a whisper, "bedroom problems."

"Felix, you shouldn't shout. Murray might hear us."

Oscar laughed at his attempt at irony. Felix was not amused, and extended an open palm. Oscar handed the book over. Felix looked at the book jacket, then set it back in the bag with the other books. He carried it over into the living room and set the bag down at the end of the coffee table before seating himself.

He eyed Oscar. Oscar met his gaze. Others might have looked away in discomfort, but not Felix.

"Since you're here, I think we should talk."

"Yeah? We generally talk when we're both in the same room."

"I was just thinking how funny it is how we live together, but we hardly talk."

Oscar didn't immediately respond, only held his gaze. "Who are you, and what have you done with Felix?"

"Alright, I said that wrong. What I meant to say, was how funny it is that we live together, but _you_ hardly talk."

"I'm moving my lips, words are coming out, isn't that talking?"

"I mean, having a _real_ conversation. Now that we're both here, I think you should start a conversation. Say something, anything you'd like."

"Alright." Oscar considered for a moment. There was no indication that Felix wanted to specifically talk about last night, and he wasn't willing to give it up for open conversation. "If you weren't gonna make lunch, I was thinking of eating out."

"To the hot dog stand? Not on my watch! Today, you're staying in. I'll make sandwiches. That is, if you won't mind a bit of a late lunch. I'm a man who keeps to a schedule, but I have chores to do."

"I don't mind a late lunch, but I like having lunch alone. I did manage forty-three years of breakfast, lunch, and dinner without you."

"Do you really want to manage your meals? You waste money when you eat out, and if you tried to prepare your own meals, you'd be eating frozen tv dinners, cold cuts, and ketchup. Do you really want to live like...no, this isn't right. This isn't a conversation."

"Sure it is. You talk, I talk."

"But this is your big chance. I'm open to talk about _anything._"

"We see each other every day. What's new to talk about?"

"It doesn't have to be about something that has just happened. For instance, you never told me much about your family."

"My family?"

"Sure! I'm always talking about my brother in Buffalo, but you don't talk about your brother. How do you two get along?" Oscar stared at Felix, unmoving. "You do have a brother, don't you?"

"You want me to lie down on the couch, Sigmund?"

"Oscar, I've always been interested in you—your hobbies, your health, your family, the women you associate with. I need to become a better listener, and who better to listen to than my roommate and best friend?"

"I put up with your cleaning, your cooking, your crying, your...you! But I won't spill out my life's story so you can play at being a shrink!"

"Why are you being so defensive? Does talking about your life make you uncomfortable? Could it be you feel your life is as big a mess as that room of yours? Is that why you never clean it? You feel your room is a reflection of your life? Of all those unrealized hopes and dreams?"

"Don't you...ya know, what? Speculate all you want, but be quiet about it, will ya?!"

"It doesn't work that way. There has to be an open, honest dialogue. How about you just tell me what you've been dreaming about? You do this one thing for me, and I swear, I won't try to psychoanalyze you any further."

"So you really are trying to psychoanalyze me!"

"Why not? I might as well psychoanalyze everyone!"

"Maybe you should psychoanalyze yourself!"

Felix giggled. When Oscar remained stoic, he repressed it by clearing his throat.

"But I don't need to be psychoanalyzed."

"Felix, you're the one checkin' out dirty psychology books."

There was a pause. Felix was staring at him with such a quizzical expression, and Oscar could bet on why that was, easily.

"Murray said—"

"I know you made up the whole Murray thing!"

"That's not true. Murray told me he was having problems with Mimi just recently."

"Murray is always having wife problems. Everybody we play poker with has wife problems! You never once had any of them recollect last night's dreams. This is new, Felix. You were upset this morning...and I did something last night that was kinda rude."

"But you couldn't have known."

Oscar cringed, a reflex against the thought of having to spell it out. "Trust me, from now on, I'll knock."

Felix was unfazed and gave a single "ha!" He stared at Oscar, almost pathetically. "You never knock even when you're fully conscious."

Oscar frowned. "I don't think very clearly when I'm...tired or drunk, sure."

"Try sleepwalking."

"Sleepwalking?"

"That's right. You were sleepwalking last night."

"And I guess I didn't sleepwalk back into my room. I know. I woke up in your room, Felix."

Felix shifted. "Well, you...sleptwalked right into my bed."

"And when I woke up, you weren't there. You must've woken up really early. And here I am, wonderin' why ya checked out those shrink books."

Felix wordlessly opened and closed his mouth, breaking under Oscar's glare.

"You kissed me!" He dramatically clamped a hand over his mouth—the elephant in the room was now, finally, spoken for.

Oscar was washed with an initial physical and mental numbness. At his core, beneath the numbing, something simmered. Felix's hand slid from his mouth, that very mouth Oscar was undeniably overly-familiar with.

"Last night you kissed me while sleepwalking. You came into my room and told me I was...you said I was a 'cutie' before kissing me and collapsing on top of me. I had to roll you off as best I could because you also..."

"Also what?"

"Um...you called me 'Felix'."

The revelation was not an explosive one, only fuel for already mixed emotions.

"Don't be angry with me," Felix continued, desperate. "Not that it necessarily has anything to do with me, you know. You could've been fantasizing about anything, really! My name didn't have to be connected in any way to your actions, you see? You only called me 'Felix' _after_ kissing me and lying down on top of me. Although..." Felix hesitated before continuing confidently, "I should let you know, before you tell me that was a fluke, you shamelessly flirted and kissed me when you were drunk two nights ago."

"I know." The words sounded flat coming from Oscar's mouth.

"You do? How?" There was a pause. "Oscar, how could you have known?"

"I was lyin' when I said I didn't remember."

"Alright...alright. Since the cat is out of the bed—I mean, bag! I meant _bag_—"

"Doesn't mean a thing." Oscar shrugged numbly. "I need a drink."

He shuffled toward the mini-bar.

"Exactly! It doesn't _necessarily_ mean anything, although there's no reason to eliminate possibilities," Felix said after him. When Oscar did not respond, Felix shifted in his seat, nearly rising as he slung an arm along the top of the backrest, looking over at his roommate's back. "Oscar, I worry about you. You haven't had any form of female company for quite a long time now. A single, middle-aged man, living all alone? That's a lonely life. At least you've got me around."

As he spoke that final sentence, Felix stood up and approached Oscar, who remained focused on the liquor. Oscar grabbed the brandy and poured himself a shot. He stared at the liquid for a moment, sitting in the tiny glass, before pouring it back into the decanter. Then, he drank directly from it.

"Please, drink from a glass." Felix spoke in that ultra-patronizing and pedantic manner. The very same insufferable friend had now acquired a simple but nonetheless carnal knowledge about him.

Oscar set the decanter on the counter, but kept his hand on it. "I need a vacation."

"A vacation?"

"Think I'll go off to one of those exotic beaches. Ya know, where women go out with nothin'. Topless also sounds wonderful. But I'll settle for full-body swimsuits. T-shirt and shorts. Anything where I can look at curves!"

"All your problems are rooted in your subconscious. I firmly believe your kissing me is the result of unresolved sexual tension, that's all."

Oscar spun around, glaring. "You're gone."

"What?"

"_You're outta here_! I'm kickin' you out, Felix! I'm finally doin' it! Get packed this minute, I never wanna see you again!"

"But I'm only trying to help."

"You're a nuisance! The biggest nuisance in this whole building! In New York! Every day I have to put up with you, but you've gone too far this time. This is last straw. The last straw that broke the camel's back, and I'm the camel, and you're that straw, Felix! I want you outta this apartment, and I don't want ya anywhere near me, or I'll tell Murray to get a restraining order! And I'll get it. No one's gonna question it. I'm tellin' you..."

Oscar made a sudden forward motion, almost like a lunge, with a single hand clenched and in a position ready to make an upper-cut. Oscar never did swing the arm, and although Felix didn't flinch, his dazed expression looked like the aftermath of a sock in the face.

"Oh," Felix said, weakly.

He shuffled his way down the hallway. Oscar stared at him retreating, before remembering one final concern.

"FELIX!"

Just as his door was closing, Felix opened it again. He stared down the hall at his roommate with an expression that bordered on crying. Oscar quickly approached. He grabbed either side of Felix's shoulders and looked him squarely into his eyes.

"You can't _ever_ tell anyone about this. I swear, Felix, don't even hint at it! No jokes, no cute remarks. Not another soul can know, or I swear...I swear, Felix..." Oscar trailed, uncertain what sort of threat he could make, but realizing a specified one wasn't needed.

"Believe me, I know you don't want people knowing," Felix managed to speak the choked-up words. He turned sharply away, breaking Oscar's weakened grasp, and went into his bedroom.

Fuming, Oscar went into his bedroom and slammed the door shut. He first noticed a lone sock hanging from the closet door's knob. He picked it up and threw it with all the force of pitching a fastball into the mess. He did the same with the next couple of clothing items and a half-eaten pastrami sandwich. When he found himself wielding an old shoe, he hesitated—he couldn't tell where the previous items had landed; every inch of his room looked to be in such a state of chaos, he couldn't possibly make more of a mess. He let his now-sore arm fall to his side, the shoe slipped from his fingers. He collapsed his body like a sack of spoiled meat on the mattress.

* * *

Felix packed what he could through a curtain of tears and a congested nose. He stood with a suitcase in either hand, one full of the clothes that had been in the closet, and the other of medications and cleaning supplies, looking back at the bedroom Oscar had given him on that night he moved in. He could send for the rest later. At the very least, his presence would be removed—just what Oscar wanted.

"Goodbye," he croaked, to no one in particular, and turned to leave.

He opened the door, and just happened to look up as he was stepping out, although he felt ashamed enough to want to hang his head low. Oscar was opposite him, standing in front of his closed door. Felix waited for another reprimand, but Oscar simply continued to watch him.

Felix turned his face away, clenching against the urge to cry, the very thing Oscar hated more than anything, and gently closed his bedroom door behind him. He set out past Oscar, down the hallway in the direction of the living room and, ultimately, the exit.

"Why didn't you hit me?"

Oscar spoke, and it was enough to grab Felix's attention. It wasn't in a yelling tone, only questioning.

"I...don't know what you mean."

"When I came at you like I did, why didn't you hit back? You had every right to."

Felix bitterly turned his back to him. "Does it matter?"

"It matters, because you should be happy. I wouldn't hold it against you if you never wanted to speak to me again."

"You're..." Felix stifled a cry. "You said you never wanted to see me again, remember?"

"You're crying?"

Oscar approached him, hands on hips. He positioned himself right in front of Felix's path.

"You said..." Felix took in a quavering breath, "such _unkind_ things."

"I was pretty upset. Any guy would if you told him what you told me."

"Does it matter!? You said...you never...w-wanted to s-speak to me again!" Felix managed with his words punctuated by sobbing.

Oscar grabbed either side of his shoulders and gripped his arms tightly.

"Curse me, Felix! Put that curse on my head!" Felix only clenched his body against the onslaught of sobbing. "Please, Felix, I'm _begging_ you. I deserve it more than anyone."

Felix took in a couple of deep breaths to fully repress the crying. Oscar put his hands in his pockets, waiting to hear the words of that eternal curse.

"No...no, I won't do that."

Oscar gave him that sturdy look, straight in the eye. "I don't get it. Why are you so upset?"

"Isn't-isn't it obvious?" A giddy laugh broke through the sobs. "Because you're my best friend."

"Even after all those things I said to you? What I did to you?"

Felix set down his suitcases. He removed his handkerchief, drying his face and blowing his nose. He wasn't going to cry anymore. "Of course! You think a little kiss would get in the way of a friendship?"

Oscar didn't immediately respond. "More like two."

"Actually, if you want to get technical, on two separate occasions you kissed me four times total. On the lips, that is."

Oscar turned away from Felix and took wide strides down the hall.

"Oscar?" Felix called out, and followed close behind him.

He opened the door to his bedroom and closed the door on Felix. Felix immediately began knocking.

"Oscar, we need to talk about this. See? I'm not angry at you. Oscar?"

Although Oscar's voice was muffled, the words were clear. "There's nothin' to work out!"

"There's no reason to be shy."

"Go away!"

Felix opened the door and took a step in. Oscar was lying on the bed, his back to Felix.

"I told ya not to come in!"

"What do you want to do? Pretend it never happened?"

Oscar quickly sat up and pivoted towards Felix.

"How 'bout this: We don't talk about private things. You're a great pal to forgive me, really, but I'm not gonna discuss this. Not ever."

"How can I forget my best friend kissing me?"

"You're free to go! Tell me off, never speak to me again, and find someone else to take you in. Maybe it'll be a woman, and then you won't mind getting kissed!"

Felix sat down on the bed next to him. "You're making a big deal out of this when you shouldn't. Your kissing me really doesn't bother me."

"Your..."

"Yes?"

Oscar looked on worriedly. Felix smiled reassuringly.

"Come on, we're both adults here. And we've been friends for a long time, haven't we? Besides," Felix chuckled, "you have to admit it's funny. I bet we'll look back on this...fifty years later and laugh."

For a moment, Oscar didn't speak. If anything, he tensed up. "You serious about that bet? Because I'm betting, hoping, _praying_ that in fifty years, you'll be somewhere far away from me."

"Seriously, we need to talk about this."

"I don't get it. What's there to talk about? You said you don't care, and I'll promise I'll never do it again. That's that."

"The two instances you kissed me, you weren't in full control of yourself."

"I'll put a lock on my door and I'll only get drunk with a prettier, more feminine drinking companion."

Oscar lay back down on the bed, prone with his arms splayed. Felix watched him trying to relax against the bodily tension.

"You feel ashamed, don't you?"

"I didn't say that."

"It wasn't like you kissed Tim the Janitor."

He turned his other cheek to the bed and glared at Felix with one eye. He raised his head up. "No, it was more like...I kissed you, Felix." He rolled over and sat up on his elbows. "You gotta believe I'd do anything to take it back."

"Don't talk that way. There are plenty of other things you ought to be regretting. Your divorce, for one."

"We've been through all that, and I've told you many times Blanche and I were never meant to be! Now, consider this, Felix, if I had kissed you just a few feet outside this apartment building, we could've been publicly humiliated and probably arrested."

"But you didn't, and we weren't."

"That doesn't bother you? You can't tolerate a speck of dust on the underside of the coffee table."

"I live with you, don't I?"

"I mean...oh, I don't know what I'm saying."

"Oscar, I'm not here to argue with you. I guess...I guess what I'm trying to say is that...everyone has their...moments of strong affection for a friend of the same sex." Felix shrugged his shoulders up nonchalantly, and held them there while he continued to speak. "Really, it happens all the time."

Oscar sat fully up in bed.

"Affection?"

"What else could it have been? You kissed me because of the affection you must've felt—"

"It was a horrible error in judgment! Not even judgment! A lack of any rational thought! That's exactly what it was, because, Felix, I don't care what ya call it, I don't go around kissing men. Not that you're not a nice guy, but you're not exactly my type," Oscar's last word was spoken tersely through clenched teeth. "Tell ya the truth, Felix, all your talk makes me nervous. You get why this is a problem?"

"You don't have to talk down to me, like I don't know! I've been around. Around and about in the big, wide world out there. I know there's a stigma."

"Then why are you so damn insistent?"

"Listen," Felix confidently laid a hand on his roommate's shoulder. "Oscar, it's nothing to be ashamed of. I'm not ashamed."

"Felix," Oscar brusquely pulled away, "you need to be careful how you sound, ya know?"

Felix blinked. "Oh, no, I'm not making any insinuations. I'm only talking about the attraction that inevitably happens between friends."

"Great! Excellent! My mind is at rest! Whoever heard of attraction between a couple of friends!?"

"Oscar, surely a worldly-wise man such as yourself has had a wide variety of life experiences."

"I don't know. I've never killed my roommate before."

"What I mean is—"

"Enough already!"

Felix stood up with a flourish, waving an index finger inches from his face.

"You're not letting me finish!"

Oscar ignored the finger, shifting his body closer to the bed's edge. Felix backed off slowly, still keeping the finger close to his face.

"Felix," he said in all seriousness. As he brought his legs over the bed's edge, Felix took a step back, just enough for Oscar to stand. "I think it's about time we had fun as a couple of bachelors."

"You mean...a road trip?"

"I'm thinking more local."


End file.
